


Friends Like These

by handywithchains



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Pining, combeferre doesn't get paid enough for this, sulky!enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 21:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handywithchains/pseuds/handywithchains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire and Enjolras have an argument. Combeferre is there to stop Enjolras from sulking. </p><p>Written with the wonderful gtaire on tumblr!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends Like These

**Author's Note:**

> erm so like my other story this is self indulgent fluff i'm sorry
> 
> written with gtaire over on tumblr!!

“Fuck you, Enjolras.” Grantaire spat, turning sharply on his heel and storming towards the door. 

Enjolras watched for a moment as all of the anger drained out of him in an instant and he surged forward, trying to reach for his boyfriend. 

“Grantaire wait-,” he began. The harsh slamming of the door cut him off mid sentence, leaving Enjolras standing alone in the living room of their shared flat. 

“Shit,” he breathed, instantly regretting the entire fight and the stupid, petty argument that had started it. He grabbed for his phone that was sitting on their coffee table and frantically dialled Grantaire’s number. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t pick up.

“Fuck,” he hissed, changing tactics and messily typing in Combeferre’s number. Combeferre, as reliable as always, picked up on the third ring.

“Enjolras,” he greeted, “you know it’s always nice to hear from you but now isn’t exactly the best t-”

“I fucked up.” Enjolras interrupted.

Combeferre sighed and Enjolras could hear the rustling of bed sheets and the murmurs of protest in the background. He tried not to realise that he’d just interrupted his three best friends in the middle of sex. But it was quite hard to ignore with Courfeyrac’s loud whining audible in the background.

“What happened?” Combeferre asked, reluctantly patient. 

“Grantaire and I had a fight and now he hates me.” Enjolras explained. He refused to think of himself as whining. He never whined. 

Combeferre sighed and it sounded more exasperated than Enjolras was comfortable with, honestly. He heard Courfeyrac let out a bewildered laugh in the background and ask in a disbelieving tone “is he serious?”

Enjolras frowned down at his phone. “Of course I’m serious, please stop mocking me.”

A sigh echoed down the phone once more and he could hear the creaking of a mattress as Combeferre pulled his clothes back on. “I’ll be there soon. Don’t have too much fun without me.”

Enjolras supposed the last sentence wasn’t directed at him. 

He heard the light trill of Jehan’s voice as he replied with “we can’t promise anything” and Enjolras really wished he wasn’t still on the phone and that Combeferre would hurry up. He was relieved when he heard the sound of the door before Courfeyrac could finish his growl. 

“I’ll be there soon,” Combeferre promised in a calm, soothing voice that was the exact opposite of how Enjolras felt. “Try not to do anything stupid in the meantime.” With that he ended the call and Enjolras tried not to feel too offended. He slowly sank down onto the couch and rested his head in his hands, trying to fight the panic building inside him.

Combeferre knocked at the door twenty minutes later. Enjolras paused the mindless cartoons he had been trying to watch and trudged forward to answer it, electing to ignore the judgemental raised eyebrow he received at the three blankets draped around his shoulders. 

Combeferre took in his appearance in silence for another few minutes. “Just how long have you two been fighting, exactly?” he asked in a grave tone.

Enjolras trudged back into the apartment, leaving Combeferre to follow on his own accord and knowing that he would, before collapsing back down onto the couch, hoping he didn’t look too pathetic.

“You look pathetic,” Combeferre told him, not unkindly, and sat down beside him. “How long has this been going on?”

Enjolras looked dejectedly up at his best friend and he could tell he was pouting but he hoped Combeferre would elect to ignore it. “About-” he checked his watch, “half an hour now?”

The look Combeferre gave him was incredulous.

“Half an hour.” Combeferre repeated. He took a deep breath before continuing. “You’re lucky I answered the phone and not Courfeyrac. He would have walked out laughing by now.”

“From what I could hear he was slightly busy.” Enjolras muttered, tightening the blankets around himself and somehow managing to look even more miserable than before. 

Combeferre murmured something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “so was I” before sitting down next to his friend. He winced at the squeaky voices coming from the TV and reached for the remote to turn it off, ignoring Enjolras’ half-hearted protests.

Combeferre looked steadily at Enjolras who was staring forlornly at him from under his cocoon of blankets. He looked absolutely miserable.

Combeferre sighed and pulled Enjolras closer to him so that they were side-by-side on the couch. “What happened?” he asked quietly. “What were you fighting about?” 

Enjolras took a deep breath before he explained. Combeferre listened patiently through the whole story, trying not to roll his eyes. 

“-- and that’s when he ran out and now he hates me and I don’t want him to hate me because I love him and now I don’t know what to do.” Enjolras finished, in what he convinced himself was a calm and reserved manner. 

“He doesn’t hate you,” Combeferre said, talking to him like he was three years old and this was the simplest thing in the universe. “He could never hate you, are we even talking about the same person here? Grantaire adores you, Enjolras.”

“I adore him,” Enjolras muttered, looking away from Combeferre and frowning into his lap because Combeferre really wasn’t being very helpful at all. “You don’t know that, though.” At Combeferre’s confused look he elaborated, his voice coming out smaller than he had intended. “You don’t know that he doesn’t hate me.”

“Enjolras,” Combeferre sighed, “for someone so intelligent, you really are a complete idiot.”

Enjolras couldn’t gather the energy to be offended; he was too busy thinking about how badly he’d fucked up with Grantaire. He was reminded of the times before they got together, when he would often talk harshly to Grantaire during meetings. He thought back to when they finally started talking properly rather than exchanging dismissive words. He remembered Grantaire’s recovery, when the alcohol finally became too much for his system, and they worked together through months of withdrawal and relapses with support from all of their friends. He couldn’t believe he’d managed to throw all that away. 

His inner turmoil must have shown on his face because Combeferre reached out and place a comforting hand on his shoulder, gracing him with a small and sincere smile. “It’ll be okay, Enjolras,” he promised, voice brimming with conviction. “So you had a fight? All couples fight. What matters is that you love each other.”

Normally, Enjolras would roll his eyes at the sickly sweet comment but now he just looked at Combeferre with hopeful eyes. “You think so?”

Combeferre laughed. “I know so.” He pushed himself up off the couch and dragged two of three blankets off of Enjolras. “Now please stop looking so miserable, you look ridiculous. Go and talk to him.”

Enjolras blanched and shook his head mutely, eyes wide. “What would I say?” he implored, looking desperately at Combeferre for help. “Hey Grantaire, I’m really sorry for being an ass will you please come home because you’ve only been gone for approximately 45 minutes and I miss you already, and I love you an awful lot so can we please stop fighting?’” 

Enjolras felt his cheeks flush at the tirade that had just poured out of him, recognizing the heated truth in his words and wondering if Combeferre did too.

Combeferre looked at him quizzically and cleared his throat. “Uhm, something to that extent, yes.”

Enjolras looked at him, brightening up slightly. He grabbed his phone and dialled Grantaire’s number, the familiar pattern of his fingers as he tapped the keys he’d tapped hundreds of times before calmed him slightly. 

“Hello?” Grantaire’s voice rang through the phone carefully.

“Grantaire! I’m so glad you answered I’m so sorry I miss you a lot and I really hate it when we fight and I love you and I’m just really sorry please forgive me?”

A silence buzzed in his ear for a few moments after his words, and Enjolras was beginning to fear that his boyfriend had hung up. 

“..It’s fine? Enjolras I’ve been gone for fifty minutes. I’m on my way home with Chinese food.”

Enjolras tried to ignore Combeferre, who was attempting to hold back his laughter as Grantaire’s words registered in Enjolras’ mind.

“But you didn’t answer your phone earlier! And you said ‘fuck you’!”

Grantaire’s sigh crackled through the phone. “I was going to apologise for that when I came back. I got extra prawn crackers and everything. And I was driving, Enjolras. I can’t answer the phone while I’m driving, I recall you yelling at Bahorel for about an hour after he checked the time on his while he was at a red light.”

This time Combeferre couldn’t hold back his smile, and Enjolras resisted the urge to throw a cushion at him. 

“So you don’t hate me?”

“I could never hate you, sweetcheeks.” Enjolras could hear the grin in Grantaire’s voice as he rolled his eyes at the pet name, not bothering to stop himself from throwing something at his best friend as he finally released a peel of laughter. 

“I’ve told you numerous times not to call me that, Grantaire. My name is Enjolras. And I love you too.” 

“Well, now that this is all nicely established, I’m about ten minutes away from the flat. I’ll see you later honey!” Grantaire replied, hanging up before Enjolras had the chance to protest.

Enjolras smiled to himself before standing up, brushing himself off and beginning to fold the blankets up. He put them back in the cupboard before turning to Combeferre, who still stood with a smile on his face. 

“If you mention any of this to Courfeyrac, I will tell Éponine that you’re the one who told Cosette about the thing that happened at the Musain last Thursday.” Enjolras said, his voice returning to the reserved tone he usually took on at meetings and protests. 

Combeferre paled slightly, though his smile never left. 

“Understood,” he replied, heading towards the door. “You’re welcome, by the way,”

**Author's Note:**

> so yes again another mention for the lovely gtaire who i worked with on this
> 
> i am queerjolras on tumblr feel free to come say hello i'm friendly most of the time


End file.
